The Lady Vanishes
by KeepCalmFanFicExists
Summary: Falling from grace is never easy. Not only for the fallen, but for those who observe too. Only Voldemort had never imagined his worst nightmare would include Bellatrix.


_A/N: Written for challenge 94 of the Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful Forum. The theme was choosing a character and giving them a dream. _

_A massive thank you to Ace, Azzie and Ella for the help in English._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter Land because if I did it would be called The Dark Lord's Land. Also, I don't own the description of the Aurors' attire, that was Vivien Lestange's idea, so a thank you to her too._

_For the Queen of Awesome :)_

The night was dark and chilly at the Lestrange Manor, with heavy mist floating over the vast gardens. The smell of the rain reached Voldemort's nostrils and he inhaled deeply before closing the window. He enjoyed the perfumes nature would produce very much for he had never smelled them as a boy. The stench of rotting food, feces, carcasses, dirty water and _humans_ that had been rising from the slums of London was something he had never managed to forget. During his 13 years of exile, when most tired, he had felt that smell surrounding him, chocking him with desperation and death, so now he couldn't get enough of the trees and the rain and the-

Knock-knock. Sharp noise. Bellatrix.

Voldemort resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The whole situation was getting repetitive. Every night, very late, when only he could be awake, Bellatrix would ask permission to enter his room. At first he would let her in, hoping to get some action before sleeping. However his lieutenant had something very different in her chaotic, ataxic mind: Snape and his loyalties. Voldemort agreed he himself was very obsessive, what Muggles would call perhaps a "workaholic", but not even he didn't consider this talk as suitable foreplay. And Bella would get very... unreceptive after he would talk her out of it. So he started telling her to leave. With all honesty, he was avoiding her and her paranoid suspicions almost all day and night. He was about to order her to leave once again when irrational anger filled him. No, it wasn't he who had lost his mind, it wasn't he who couldn't make two successive sentences make sense, he wasn't going to miss his sleep because of her.

Ignoring another knock, he unbuttoned his robes and went to the bathroom. When he came out seven minutes later the knocking was softer, but more erratic. She was persistent, he had to give her that. Changing into more comfortable flax shirt and pants he slipped under the silk bedcovers. The moment he lay his head on the pillow, a muffled collision sound informed him Bellatrix had sat on the floor outside his room. Was the woman going to spend the night there? He didn't really care, he needed these four hours of sleep. He was dreaming the next moment.

* * *

A flaming jet of air passed right next to his head and he ducked instinctively. Curses were flying all around him, so he flattened himself on the wall and watched the ongoing fight invisible. Three pairs of fighters were duelling in a dark alley, half of them wearing the blood-red robes of the Aurors. The others were dressed in black and covered their faces with silver-white masks. Their moves were not fluid enough, their reactions a bit too last-minute, the spells missing the target sometimes: they were his new recruits.

With interest he scanned the bodies for Bellatrix and indeed he found her very easily; the only black-dressed silhouette who was fighting like she had been doing this for years, she had just knocked her Auror unconscious. She stood still for a while, staring at the body at her feet and then took off her mask and hood, a cascade of liquid ebony falling to her hips. Slowly, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on, she turned a little more to the left, so that Voldemort could see her face. Even though he knew it was a dream, he felt surprise as he scanned the young woman's face: impassive, stone-like, unreadable. This was not Bella, she would get so excited in battle, laughing and dancing around, mocking her victims, not staring them down.

Something was off here and he didn't accept loss of control even in his dreams. He started walking towards her, for a minute forgetting the ongoing fight, and Bella's gaze fell on him. Instead of lightening up as it always did when she would spot him observing her, it remained calm and distant. The next minute a sharp pain hit his left kidney.

* * *

He was lying on his stomach, a burning sensation on the left side of his body. The characteristic sound of metallic objects being scattered on a stony surface reached his ears. He turned his head to the right and realised he was in the Lestrange Manor Potions Room. A cauldron was boiling over the fire and another one was already positioned on the table nearby. He attempted to get up, recognizing it as a pain relief potion, when a steel grip sent him back to the pillows. He turned his head up to see who dared do such a thing and all he saw was Bellatrix' long, shining plait as she was sorting the ingredients for the potion she was brewing.

"Bella," he called her name just to make sure the previous dream was over.

The woman continued her work focused solely on the quantity of Lethe River Water she needed to extract from the small bottle.

"Bella!"

She did not react.

"Bellatrix!" he called and when she just picked up the glass vial and moved towards the cauldron he grabbed her wrist, putting effort not crushing it with anger.

"Please stay where you are, you could cause damage to your kidneys," she answered, no intonation in her voice. It was just like giving information to a mere stranger, the way nurses in the ER talk to the dozens of patients they see every night, not like reassuring the reason you live for everything will be fine. Bellatrix pushed his hand away and knelt near the cauldron, adding the drops and then came back to the couch where Voldemort lay. She took her wand out and before he could control himself enough to both talk and not hit her, his robes were ripped at the waist so she could have a view of the injury.

"Stay still, please." The cool voice made him shiver. What was wrong? This was not his Bella, this was not the woman he knew, the girl who adored him since she was little. Another glance at the perfect face that was staring clinically at his scarred back and he was falling into nothingness.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Riddle, a pleasure to see you, as always," Cygnus Black smiled as Voldemort walked elegantly in the Great Hall of the Black Castle.

"Cygnus," he smiled back, shaking hands with his old classmate, "you know I would never miss the chance of seeing you in the short time I will be spending in Britain. And your daughters must be growing up rapidly now. Actually, before we proceed on more important matters, I have something for Miss Black."

"Again?" Cygnus made a mock sigh. "You're spoiling her, she'll start saying I'm not treating her nicely, she already talks about you every waking hour...Oh well, it's not like I wasn't expecting it, come, she's waiting for us next door."

In the room a slim girl dressed lavishly was standing in front of the fire, staring at the books covering all four walls. When she noticed her father and Voldemort, a small smile appeared on her face and she approached.

"Father, Mr. Riddle," she made a little curtsey towards them.

"Miss Black," Voldemort began softly, "I am very happy to see you, you have grown so much since we last met, you will be a fine woman one day.''

Bellatrix just nodded politely at the compliment, but did not comment. Voldemort was getting the same uncomfortable feeling as before. Could he be having the same dream again and again in different settings? He took a deep breath and continued as if nothing was wrong making a small leather-bound book appear out of thin air in front of the little girl. She didn't even blink, waiting for him to say something.

"I got this especially for you during my latest trip in China, contains a lot of puzzles, I think you will like them. I managed to obtain it with much difficulty, would you like to hear the story?"

"It is very kind of you, sir, bringing me this, I am sure it will be fascinating to explore, only I think my father has very important matters to discuss with you, it would be rather rude of me to interrupt." Bellatrix accepted the book he offered her and with a last delicate curtsey headed to the door. Scarlet flames illuminated Voldemort's eyes as he felt he couldn't take it anymore. His hands shot to the girl's throat and pinned her to the wall. Bella's eyes remained as calm as ever as he crushed her windpipe harder and harder-

* * *

He was thrusting in and out of her harder and faster, making the curtains of the four-poster bed swing over their heads. Voldemort was immediately lost in the vertigo of pleasure that hit him and he struggled to keep a calm face. He really needed this after the bizarreness of the previous dreams, he wanted to hear Bella calling his name breathlessly, asking him for more, collapsing in his lap, being completely in his mercy. That was the way it was supposed to be.

Coming closer to his release, he opened his eyes to reposition himself a bit more vertically over her and then he noticed. Bellatrix was totally lifeless, staring at the canopy of the bed expressionless, as if she had not noticed what he had been doing to her. With enormous effort he stopped moving and focused only on her face, wondering if she was going to notice him observing her. But she was not paying attention to him or her surroundings. And Voldemort's anger burst, making the bed shake and the wall of the room fall and the light of the candle go out-

* * *

Under the cool night sky a tight circle was formed by fifteen black-robed figures in masks around Voldemort and Bellatrix. Voldemort smiled triumphantly; this was something that couldn't get complicated, it had already happened, Bella was his and only his, the Dark Mark on her arm would show everyone in a few seconds.

"Give me your arm," he said quietly. Bellatrix did not respond, just gazed at the distance, over his head. Biting back a curse, he grabbed her arm and almost ripped the sleeve of her robes in his frustration and confusion.

"Do you, Bellatrix Black, swear to be loyal to me and only me, and recognize me as your master?" Bellatrix now was examining the grassy floor, apparently not remembering why she was in that forest. Voldemort's hand shot out and got a painful grip of her chin, turning her head up, but she still didn't give him a look.

"In the name of Slytherin, just _look_ at me!" he yelled, his voice carrying the distance. He shook her from top to bottom and only then for a split second, she threw her gaze at him, their eyes meeting and he saw pure anger exploding in their depths. He opened his mouth to scream, and-

* * *

Voldemort sat up on the bed, taking deep calming breaths. He had nightmares often, the horrors he had witnessed at the orphanage would visit him regularly at night, and so did the loneliness of the exile. But this had been very different, he had never felt fear as much as he did when he saw the eyes he knew so well burning with anger and hatred for him. Breathing heavily as if he had been performing extraordinary magic, he wondered quietly why he had found this dream so deeply disturbing. Just the image of Bellatrix' eyes was enough to make him uncomfortable. He had seen her eyes so many times; in fact he really liked them, that midnight-blue was spectacular and their shape made her look like she was haughty and arrogant even when she wasn't. But they were always adoring him, always looking at him in awe. Then again, why did he care, it was only a dream, Bellatrix in reality would be his as long as he wasn't bored of her, hadn't she been sleeping out of his room all night?

Abruptly he stood up and hurried to the door of his room. Was she still out there? Waiting for him to care? A silent Humenum Revelio informed him she was indeed outside, curled up in a fetal position. A tiny hint of pity lit up in his chest along with something else he couldn't exactly define. He could open the door and let her sleep with him, or simply send her to bed. Or not.

A minute later he was sleeping in his bed.

_A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. Apart from Voldemort being an SOB, of course._


End file.
